Page 64 of Rio
I stop typing.The hard-won zen like feeling escapes as quickly as it came and blood courses through me, pooling south below my belly.I imagine joining him, standing under the showerhead, embroiled in a kiss as rivulets of water spurt down on us.Closing my eyes, I picture his mouth dropping to my breast.He starts to suck, one hand reaching between my legs, making me squirm in my chair.
I hear a noise.It sounded more like a grunt.And then I think I hear my name.Can’t be.I’m imagining it.But another grunt follows.Curious, I get up and walk over to the bathroom door, wishing I could see inside.Pressing my ear to the door, I relish the coolness of it, but a second later, I hear my name again, on Rio’s tongue.My insides jolt and I shrink back from the door, like it’s on fire.
I knowexactlywhat he’s doing in there.
I’m so flustered and so aroused.The images were already in my head, but hearing my name, and those deeply feral groans, knowing what he’s doing, makes me ache in places I shouldn’t.My skin tightens, my breath turns shallow, and every nerve ending is heightened and tuned to the sound of the water hitting tile.Heat pools between my thighs, knowing what he’s stroking.Suddenly, I long to stroke him, too.
I stand there, paralyzed.Knowing that only a wooden door separates us both.He’s naked, and wet, and sated now.What I wouldn’t give to ...
The water stops running, and I quickly tiptoe back to the chair, and pretend to be hard at work.But what I’m really doing is trying to steady my breathing.To throw imaginary cold water over my arousal.I hear the door open, so I start typing, breathing in and out slowly.Hoping he won’t notice.
“That’s better.”
I turn around, because, how could I not?My willpower is shot.Always is around this man.
The devil who’s trying to kill me by torture quickly grabs a shirt from his suitcase, but he doesn’t put it on.He’s wearing only lounge shorts, and he’s barefoot.Damp chest, damp hair.Shiny rivulets of water runs down his pecs.A smattering of dark hairs leads from his navel downwards into the delicious V shape at his lower region.
He’s holding his t-shirt and now he walks over to me, trying to torture me with his scent, his heat, his body.All I can think about is what he was doing in that bathroom, and how badly I wanted to be there with him.
“You hot?”He’s about to roll the white T over his head, and I wish he’d hurry up and do it.
“What?”I try to act nonchalant.
“You look flustered.”
I swipe a hand across my back, feel my breasts turn heavy, my panties soaked.I rub my temple.“This is impossible.”I stare at the blameless screen and pour fault on it.
“What is?”
“Work,” I manage to say, as he rolls the t-shirt down, then swipes his hands through his long hair, slicking it back.It falls with a middle parting, framing his face.I feel a slickness in my panties.
“Need some more water?”he asks, then sees that the bottle is still half-full.He saunters over to the mini-bar, while I take this opportunity to admire him from behind.He grabs a bottle of water and slowly returns, twisting the plastic top and taking a big gulp.
That’s when I notice his pants are starting to tent again.I bite back a gasp as he puts the lid back on the bottle, and sets it on the desk, He leans on the edge, too close again and I’m caught in a thrum of desire.A magic spell weaves around me, reeling me in, and the air becomes charged with something prickly.
Our eyes lock.
“Do you believe in fate?”he asks, smiling softly.Not the usual smug tug of his lips.No joking around.He’s refreshingly honest and bare in this moment.
I’m a fly caught in a web of lust.“Maybe.”
“Have you noticed how we keep running into one another?You keep pushing me away, and I keep trying to forget you, and then I run into you again.”
I try to swallow, but my throat constricts.“It’s a coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Then, what are you saying?”
This isn’t about the resort, or the community meeting.It’s about him and me.I realize in that moment that Rio isn’t the sharp, slick, mafia-like personality who has no heart.
Rio is all heart.
He feels.
He cares.
And he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to his prayers.
